spotted latternflies

there are science classes where 

young children
learn about invasive species
like the spotted latternfly

who feeds on trees

children walk outside

to see

the red and black and white of their spotted backs
a moment of admiration before--
Squash it! Smash it! Kill it! Stomp it!

because there aren't enough praying mantises 
or chickens for the job

and it's for the greater good, right?

but i'm not sure how

to feel about any of this

remembering how to do things

i forgot about poems 
and how to write them
i can never remember how to write a haiku
until the internet tells me
i forgot about knitting 
and how to knit things
other than simple scarves and tiny blankets
but then the internet reminded me
and i'm on my second spiral patterned hat
whispering to myself, welcome back

Reversals

today I rode 

a train that drove backwards
a brief pause
after it went forwards 

retreating back for a moment of confusion and unexpected camaraderie 

and somehow an excuse to pull down masks, but why 

I don’t know
then it paused again
returned to forward motion
But her mask stayed below her chin

as she unwrapped golden chocolates
I sat stewing, trying not to glare, wanting to scold her
Ask her
Why can I see the bottom of your face?

phone call after phone call, talking and spitting

aerosols spewing

a conductor passing, not noticing 
but when she spoke to the train car, 

I stumbled, a slight panic

trying not to look her way

so she might speak to someone else
What stop is this? 

now she was looking right at me
I mumbled back. 
What stop is this?
Highland Avenue. 

maybe I was glaring 
rewind 

go back so I can 

insert what I wanted to say here. 

a pen and paper would do me better
for I’ve had a headache for days 
and burning eyes
probably all this screen time
an excuse to not write a poem
but then instead
I just sit around, finally 
watching Ted Lasso

collections

i am a collector of things
i don't know how to get rid of the things
once i have the things
i might need the things one day that is not today
once i went on a date with a mean man and he thought badly of me for my many things
turned out, he was one thing easy to discard

Shades of Blue-Green

so I like teal,
Ya gotta a problem with that?
He does indeed seem to have a problem with that
not understanding why
and trying to give me gifts that aren’t teal

hoping I might expand my color palette

ending up with disappointment on my face
never learning:
I don’t want a gift that isn’t teal

soggy bottoms

I ride my bike to work
but yesterday it froze rain
so I only rode to the train 
and arrived to work with a very soggy bottom
that could only be dried by plopping it down on a hot radiator

Self-Portrait

 

steam valves

our house has been too cold for a year
this year colder than last
but i did my research
i will fix these radiators
while you sit on the beach in your sunhat
i'll fix this old house
little ol' me
the radiator fixer

you'll come home with your tan

wondering what you were running from

December 26, 2021

her birth was one of trauma

resulting in a too-soon-poop

swallowed

it's name: meconium aspiration syndrome

or so i think

but what do i know about babies 

or birthing them

this baby's pictures feature

a respirator and a specially sized tube up her nose,

her oddly big baby nose

she has the goldilocks of noses, 

with a breathing tube just right

we were crying until 

that nose

a doctor said

my, my, what a nose

a self-portrait
half my day i painted 
and nearly perfect 

could have stopped, should have 

nearly perfect 

for me
i ruined the nose

predictably 

a gray blob of wet paint

my face an appropriate mess

too impatient to wait for anything

in preparation for january 2

men in bloated tummies stagger round upstairs

blabber incoherently
a cloud of dope surrounds beach towels and swimmies,
my magnetic chess set, a birthday gift never used
stuffing suitcases like bellies
asking, "does my face look puffy?"
"it looks fine"
not sure if i'm lying

i don't know his face well enough for judgment 

satisfied he retreats to his luggage lair

i listen to the rain

a car passing

fire sputtering
dog softly snoring
near a half undressed christmas tree

not ready for the lights to join

childhood nostalgia, a mix that means nothing and everything

in its cardboard boxes 

one last night in the living room with my lights

hoping two swollen men might remove them before tossing dehydrated tree to the curb

a southern mother says this is the rule of january 1